


Your Tongue, It Is Wise, and There's Love in Your Eyes, Deep and Blue

by bertie456 (bertee)



Series: Bones: You're Lovely to Me [3]
Category: Bones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-09-01
Updated: 2008-09-01
Packaged: 2017-10-27 20:11:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/299592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bertee/pseuds/bertie456





	Your Tongue, It Is Wise, and There's Love in Your Eyes, Deep and Blue

Seeley Booth had been raised a good Catholic.

He went to church on Sundays, unless he was especially hungover; he said his prayers every night, unless he was especially drunk; and he tried to live how the good book suggested, unless the suggestion was just impractical. Okay, so he'd shot a lot of people and had a child out of wedlock, but he figured that no-one's perfect. Besides, you can't be a Catholic without a healthy dose of Catholic guilt, and Booth was way ahead on that count.

But he'd done his bit. He'd gone to church camp as a kid, he'd spent time in the army chapel when he was on active duty, and he helped out with making Christingles at his local church when Christmas rolled around each year. He'd had his values drummed into him since birth; respect women, be a good father, be restrained, love thy God, obey the laws, and all the rest, and he'd managed to successfully hold onto them all throughout his adult life.

Well, almost all of them.

Since he'd met Temperance Brennan, his restraint has been slowly weakening, turning from the strength of iron to the consistency of marshmallow in just over two short years. When he'd kissed her for the first time, it was as though his marshmallow of restraint had been roasted on an open fire. And when she, for want of a better expression, had first screwed his brains out, his squidgy excuse for restraint had melted away completely, leaving him free to satisfy his and her every need, twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week.

The only flaw in this plan was that she only wanted him for approximately twelve hours a day, and even that was dependant on overtime.

Two months ago, he'd listened with horror as she'd told him that she wanted to keep their relationship low-key at work, in order to preserve their effective teamwork, the reputation of their department and their all-round safety from vengeful serial killers. Despite wanting to protest violently that the logic of this plan required him to utilise his now defunct restraint, Booth had merely smiled and nodded before subtly enquiring what low-key entailed exactly.

"Low-key" apparently ruled out kissing, groping, under the desk oral sex of any kind and making out on the large glowing table, thereby putting pay to most of Booth's work related fantasies in one fell swoop. However, he'd agreed to the plan, figuring that he could summon up some hidden reserve of willpower and manage to make it through each day with the knowledge that he would have her to himself all night.

So, ironically like the rest of the Jeffersonian Museum, the Medico-Legal lab had become a "Look, Don't Touch" zone for the past two months.

Brennan had coped with it well, separating herself into a work person and a play person with remarkable efficiency, keeping any feelings she had for her partner firmly shut away during the day. Booth, on the other hand, was not coping so well, and his day was split into two distinct categories: being with Bones and fantasising about Bones. Granted, this was an improvement on a day spent wholly on the fantasising, but it wasn't enough. He needed the little things; a kiss on the cheek, a phone call telling him about her day, the chance to put his arm around her in public. He wasn't asking her to strip off and let him take her from behind in front of the whole lab, he just wanted some signs of affection, rather than the entirely impersonal current arrangement.

It's not like their relationship was a secret. They had both been clear about that. Brennan had told Angela as soon as it was decided, and for a few days, the squints had been buzzing with excitement. That had quickly died down in the absence of any couple-like behavior from the partners, and it had soon been back to business as normal for the whole team.

Except Booth.

Checking his watch, he leaned back on the couch in the lounge area of the lab, flipping his poker chip in the air impatiently, wondering how long it could take squints to get him a few lab results. All he needed was some hard evidence, and then he could head back to the Hoover building to work on his end of the case, far, far away from the torturous presence of Temperance Brennan.

Normally, he'd be down there, talking or arguing with her while she worked, but even that was now too much for him, and he'd retreated to the upper platform, trying to block out the temptation.

But dear God, it was hard. And not just in the metaphorical way. Try as he might, Booth's libido could not get the hang of the night-of-passionate-sex-followed-by-whole-day-of-Bones-cold-turkey system that it had been subjected too. Sighing, he took a sip of his coffee, doing his best to focus on anything except his partner.

It didn't work. His eyes couldn't help but pick her out in the group of lab-coated squints below him, and the sensible part of his mind was reduced to the role of a back seat driver, pointing out the correct way to go while being thoroughly ignored by the other part which drank in the sight of her greedily. Staring at her perfectly neat and ordered appearance, Booth couldn't help but draw comparisons between the side of her he saw almost every night.

He watched as she turned to face Zach, her tidy ponytail swinging gently as she did so, and remembered her hair as it was when she was with him the night before. She'd taken it down as soon as she walked through his door, and within moments his hand was entangled in it as he held her lips to his, kissing her hungrily as though starved of the sheer taste of her. Her auburn curls had rested lazily on her shoulders all through dinner and she'd occasionally smoothed them with her own hand as she spoke to him. Not that she'd cared about how messy it was as the evening went on. As he thrust into her, she'd moved on the pillow in time with his motion, her hair mussed and spreading around her, loose and untamed. She'd thrown her head back as she came, gasping his name, and when he too had joined her in the freefall, they came down together, their lips meeting in a satisfied kiss while he played intimately with a stray curl and she ran her fingers along his upper arm, tracing the muscle with her nails.

Feeling his skin tingle at the mere memory of her touch, Booth closed his eyes, his Catholic guilt berating him for not being more respectful of his partner's wishes for professionalism. Deciding that memory alone would have to sustain him till that evening, he looked back down to the raised platform and saw that Brennan was now walking between the workstations. He rolled his eyes to himself when he saw that she was wearing her usual heavy brown boots which she insisted were so comfortable. In truth, he never used to mind them, but that was before he saw her in _those_ heels.

It'd been about a month into their relationship, and he'd decided to take Brennan out on a date that consisted of more than bottles of beer and whatever kind of takeaway they could find the number for. He'd booked the fanciest restaurant in DC, fully aware that he'd have to live off lentils for the next month to afford it, but the evening had been more than worth it.

Temperance had looked beautiful. She rarely had the time or energy to dress up properly, but when she did, she went all out. Her long black dress had been perfect, her hair coiffed and delicate, and her make-up dark and smoky, accentuating the blue of her eyes. However, what had surprised him the most was her shoes. The black stilettos managed to lengthen her already long legs, making her nearly the same height as Booth, and they altered her posture slightly, causing her pert ass to tilt out and fit snugly into Booth's hands as he held her close to kiss her. He'd complimented her on her outfit, but said that he wouldn't have thought she owned a pair of fuck-me heels. Booth smirked to himself on the couch, thinking of her bemused reply, "Why would heels want to be fucked?"

The meal was wonderful, and she had even humored his notions of chivalry by letting him pay. Arriving back at his apartment afterwards, they had quickly made their way to the bedroom, ready to let go of the formal, polite part of the evening. Hurriedly removing his tux, Booth had been only too glad to get Brennan out of her gown, but it was here she had surprised him again. Letting him take off her dress, she had then pushed him onto the bed with a wicked smile before climbing on top of him, still dressed in her panties, stockings and those heels. Her lips were on him before he could question what she was doing, and she trailed kisses up his bare chest, occasionally letting her tongue swirl across his tanned skin as she rocked her hips back and forth slowly, sending a rush of stimulation through both of them that was heightened by the friction of their underwear.

Becoming greedy for more than just friction, Booth had tried to manoeuvre himself on top of her. She'd pinned him down, but got the message nonetheless, since she then removed her panties before putting his cock out of at least some of its misery by discarding his boxers. Only when he was fully naked did she let him roll her onto her back, hooking her feet together with her legs around his body to enable her to control the speed at which he entered her.

Booth grinned to himself at the memory of the bruises her shoes left on his ass from where she'd tightened her grip around him, needing him deeper and deeper inside of her as her hands clutched at the headboard, nearly lifting completely up on his strokes. Recalling the ferocity with which they both came that night, he wondered briefly why he was so turned on by her ass in those heels. He wasn't normally one for roleplaying or dress-up games during sex, being more focused on the pleasure of the act than unnecessary trimmings, but that didn't stop him considering whether Brennan would be amenable to wearing stilettos more often...

Stopping himself before he drifted off into another daydream, Booth glanced back down at his partner with a mildly depressed sigh. Forget shoes, forget classy restaurants, all he really wanted was to be able to kiss her in public.

He was distracted as her voice drifted up to the lounge from her conversation with her colleagues, debating some scientific point so complex that Booth only understood about three words in her speech, one of which was Zach's name. Hoping to ease the annoyance that was building again, he closed his eyes and took deep breaths, grateful that the rest area was so deserted.

Eyes shut, he smiled as he heard her continue to speak, and tried to remember what it was like when this scientific jargon was all he heard from her. In the lab, she was so factual, analytical, with everything backed up by hard forensic evidence before she'd say anything conclusive. In arguments and conversations with him, she always used her extensive vocabulary, putting her point across in the most long-winded way she could think of, normally referencing some kind of biological prerogative or anthropological imperative that left him blank. She had rarely opened up to anyone, and even then she struggled to express her feelings simply, preferring to hide behind a shield of scientific reasoning instead of allowing room for the possibility of impulse.

And by what he could hear from below him, nothing had changed at work. He, however, had seen a whole new side to her over the last two months they'd spent together. Granted, the arguments and the conversations were fairly similar, with the same bickering and bantering between the two of them, but now they almost always ended in a kiss or more, instead of with one of them taking offence and giving the other the silent treatment.

It was in the events that so often followed the kiss that Booth saw the biggest change in Brennan's vocabulary. When his lips were on her, it was as though her brain somehow switched off, letting the words flow straight from her mouth, bypassing her internal filter. He cast his mind back to their last few encounters and glanced down at her as he remembered some of her more profane exclamations, "Holy mother of fuck..." being one of his personal favorites.

Like any man, he loved hearing his partners call his name during the act, but hearing Temperance do it turned him on more than he'd thought possible. It would start lustful, her voice husky as they kissed, whispering "Seeley" in anticipation as his mouth moved down her throat. When his kisses reached her breasts and became licks and sucks of her hardened nipples, her call became more pleading, repeating his name between heavy breaths and becoming louder as his hand started to work her center, circling her clit with his thumb while letting his fingers delve into her folds, slipping one or two inside her core as she began to thrust towards him. But the best by far was when she was mid-explosion. The volume varied but the emotion behind it was constantly sincere, and it was this glimpse, this hint that she cared for him as much as he openly cared for her that so often tipped him over the edge as well.

Returning once again to reality, Booth suddenly and decisively got to his feet, unable to take it anymore. Unwilling to sit and cling to memories when the woman in question was downstairs, he headed down to the platform armed with the new realisation that, as much as he loved every little detail and nuance of her voice, body and personality, none of it meant anything if he couldn't have her as a whole.

Striding up onto the central platform and ignoring questions from various squints, he moved to Temperance, spun her round to face him and pulled her into a kiss before she could object.

It wasn't the most passionate of kisses, as he simply captured her lips with his, holding her to him, but it was the significance of the act that mattered. He had kissed her in the middle of the lab, _her_ lab, in front of all their coworkers.

Slightly stunned at what he'd just done, Booth stepped back, seeing that her expression mirrored his own and wondering whether she was about to fall into his arms or kick his presumptious ass.

Temperance did neither. Still breathing hard in shock, she spoke levelly to him, as though the entire lab wasn't now watching their conversation, "We talked about this..."

His shoulders visibly sagged and he dropped his head slightly, feeling humiliated and rejected. "I'm sorry," he began sincerely, thinking his plan might not have been the best idea after all. "I just couldn't sit there anymore. I want you, Temperance, I-"

"You should've talked to me," she said, her voice softer but still chiding.

Booth shook his head helplessly, unsure of the words that would make it better. "I'm sorry..."

Ignoring his apology, she finished her earlier statement, a knowing smile tugging at her lips, "I might have said yes."

His eyes darted up, full of renewed hope, but before he could say anything, she stepped closer to him, planting a soft kiss just to the side of his lips. Meeting his eyes, she spoke in a whisper, her hands on the sides of his jacket, "No more dramatics in future, alright? Neither of us work like that." Seeing his relieved but confused expression, she smiled. "We're adults, Booth, we can talk about these things. Truth is, I was beginning to regret our decision just as much as you were."

The agent's confident smile returned and he asked optimistically, "So does this mean...?"

Still keeping her voice low, Temperance replied, "Let's just start small for now. We can discuss it tonight."

Booth grinned and gave her a chaste kiss on the cheek, speaking gratefully, "Thank you."

The wicked smile he'd grown to love spread across her face as she moved round, whispering in his ear before she moved back to her work, "This doesn't mean your desk-oriented fantasies are back on the table. Or under it."

Chuckling, but not fully deterred, he watched her go, feeling satisfied not just by her words, but by the familiar glint in her eye. Of all the parts of her he'd been obsessing over, he'd failed to notice that when she'd looked at him in the lab for the last two months, even under the guise of professionalism, she'd had the exact same sparkle in her eyes as when she kissed him, or cried his name aloud in their bed.

He wasn't sure if either of them could yet vocalise what the sparkle meant, but he knew it was his, and his alone, and that was more than enough for now.


End file.
